Zenitsu, thrilled, dragged Haganezuka inside, serving tea, water, snacks, fanning him, and even offering shoulder massages—an overwhelming display of hospitality.
Haganezuka, unused to such treatment, sat stiffly on the tatami, bewildered. "Uh… may I ask…"
"Yes! What do you need?" Zenitsu chirped.
"Are you… Horitake?"
"No, I'm his junior. Big Bro Horitake's out training."
Haganezuka sweated. If you're not him, why all this fuss? It's awkward.
"Could you… fetch your senior? I need him to take his blade."
"Sure! I'll call him!" Zenitsu flung open the door, shouting, "Big Bro! Your Nichirin Blade's here!"
His voice echoed across Peach Mountain.
Minutes later, Horitake and Jigoro arrived together.
Entering, Horitake eyed Haganezuka eagerly. "Oh? My Nichirin Blade's done? You're my swordsmith? Thanks for the trouble."
They sat, guest and hosts, as Haganezuka found his rhythm, unwrapping the blade while explaining, "This is your Nichirin Blade, forged by my hands. Its materials—Scarlet Ore and Scarlet Iron Sand—come from the mountain closest to the sun, absorbing its light. That mountain, bathed in sunlight daily, never sees clouds or rain…"
Horitake inwardly scoffed. Closest to the sun? Always sunny, no clouds or rain? What, Mount Everest? No way you mined ore there. And it's not sunny all day—day and night exist! This lore's ridiculous. Are swordsmiths just hyping themselves up?
As he mused, Haganezuka presented the blade. Horitake took it reverently.
The Nichirin Blade's sheath and hilt were dark red, its form not a traditional katana but a Chinese Tang sword, as Horitake had requested.
Admiring its design, Horitake said, "Master Haganezuka, thank you for humoring my whim and forging it as a Tang sword."
"Not hard. Neon's katanas stem from Tang swords, so recreating ancestral craft was a nice challenge. But forging this blade was tough."
"Oh? How so?"
Haganezuka pointed at the blade, grimacing. "That tamahagane you chose—it's like it held lightning. Every strike shocked me, numbing my arms. We had to take turns forging to shape it."
Jigoro, seasoned, was stunned. "Lightning-infused steel choosing Horitake, a Thunder Breathing user? Is this fate?"
Horitake had a guess. When selecting the tamahagane, his spiritual vision noticed it had been struck by lightning, possibly imbuing it with electric properties.
Before drawing the blade, Haganezuka urged, "Nichirin Blades change color based on their wielder. Draw it—let's see! I hope it's a crimson Haki blade!"
Horitake, excited, slowly unsheathed it.
The Tang-style blade gleamed silver-white, razor-sharp. Under everyone's gaze, it began changing color from the hilt upward.
"Kore wa…!" Haganezuka gasped.
The blade turned a dazzling purple, interwoven with lightning-like patterns, exuding mystery.
Zenitsu gawked, murmuring, "Such a gorgeous purple! It matches Big Bro's Thunder Breathing lightning!"
Haganezuka, ecstatic, raved, "Nani kore!? This mesmerizing color… unprecedented! Incredible! I may have witnessed a miracle!"
Jigoro, pleased, suggested, "Horitake, name your blade."
"Name it…" Horitake pondered, then slid his hand along the blade, fondling it. "I'll call it… Majestic Radiance! The Blade of Majestic Radiance!"
"Majestic Radiance? Good name! What's its origin?" Jigoro asked.
"No specific origin, just—" Horitake began, but a sudden change interrupted.
Purple electric arcs sparked from Majestic Radiance, crackling into the air!
Everyone jumped. Jigoro demanded, "Horitake! What's happening!?"
"I don't know! I'm not using Thunder Breathing—it's the blade itself!"
Haganezuka, oblivious to the oddity, danced excitedly. "Self-generating lightning? The tamahagane's magic? I've forged a masterpiece!"
"No!" Horitake stared at the blade. "It's not that. It feels like… Majestic Radiance is provoking something!"
"Provoking?" Jigoro frowned at the arcing sparks. "Provoking you?"
Legends told of powerful weapons testing their wielders, rejecting the unworthy, even turning on them.
Horitake shook his head. "No, the lightning's not harming me. I feel in sync with Majestic Radiance. It's provoking…" He followed the arcs' direction upward.
The ceiling? No.
The sky outside? Maybe not.
A chilling thought hit him.
Outside, the clear sky had turned ominous, thick clouds blanketing Peach Mountain, pressing down with oppressive menace.
Haganezuka scratched his head. "It was clear just now. Why the sudden change?"
Jigoro's face darkened, recalling Zenitsu's lightning-struck hair-color change. The scenes were eerily similar, but this storm dwarfed that one, engulfing the entire mountain!
Cursing inwardly, Jigoro thought, Why do my disciples face such inhuman trials!?
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